


breaking the mold

by mother_hearted



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Post-Canon, gender expression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_hearted/pseuds/mother_hearted
Summary: In Almyra, beyond the language, the culture, the stares of mistrust, Dimitri is swimming lost in a sea of opportunity.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	breaking the mold

  
Growing up, his pitcher always felt agonizingly full. Born a Prince, bred to be King. There was no time for exploration, to look beyond the mold passed down from his father, his father's father, and the many men who came before him. It takes him ten years to realize his pitcher was never full but merely capped at the bottom. In Almyra, beyond the language, the culture, the stares of mistrust, Dimitri is swimming lost in a sea of opportunity. 

It's as if every time he turns his head, he is gasping for more breath. Possibilities bedazzle and blind him worse than walls of gemstones reflecting sunlight. He is not known to stand paralyzed, still in parts the boy masquerading as the charging boar. 

But at age twenty four he is only learning who _Dimitri_ is. The first things he can confirm, that he knows for sure: If there is good work in this world, he will do it. He is a faithful and devoted spouse. He cares for children. He becomes restless and itchy under his skin if he goes too long without training, if his hand cannot know the grip of his lance. He is a terrible liar. There is softness inside of him, squashed down from years of wearing plate and metal, that makes itself known in rivers streaming down his face.

There is a sense of... intrigue, when he looks at long, flowing garments. Yearning, at their decoration, ornamentation. 

His shame, an ugly tangle of yarn that will take patient fingers to work through for many years to come.

Claude catches his wandering eye and his confession is a brief one. Fear coats his tongue, stiffens the muscles of his face. The boy inside of him waits for a slap to come. 

Instead a package is delivered to him three weeks later. He regards it like an angry wasps nest, avoiding the table it sits on until he can no longer stand it. Under its modest wrapping, it is a blouse. Blue like the sky, its neckline is wide, its sleeves open and flowing. It seems unfathomable, that this is something he can own. 

Like a cat, he rubs his cheek against the silk. Flushes wary and warm when he looks over his shoulder, forgetting he is in his bedroom, that there is no fear of anyone walking in. 

_Haven't you punished yourself enough?_

Rather than a phantom, the memory of Claude's voice fills his ears. Reminds him that Claude picked this out for him. Reminds Dimitri of his own promise to accept any gift Claude gave him. He turns and walks far away from their mirror, to slip off his top and lay it on the corner of their bed. He buries his face in the fabric once more, to breathe and hide, and remembers a little boy who once switched outfits with Ingrid. The innocent joy he felt, twirling around while she struck a knight's pose. 

'I owe him this,' he thinks. He puts on the blouse and looks down at himself. It's loose. Easy for a pick pocket's hands to slip inside. Fabric thin and helpless to the cut of a blade or point of an arrowhead. It's nothing like the utilitarian furs and armor of his youth. All it is... is pretty.

He feels his face blaze and self-consciously wants to cover his plunging neckline. He feels strange, meeting this part of himself for the first time. It is too new, too frightening to be joyful... but he finds a proper hanger and space for it in his wardrobe. He does not wear it to dinner, only mentions his thanks, that it is beautiful. 

He is not ready to show Claude this new stranger until he has become acquainted with him, but when he glances towards his wardrobe that night he feels his lips curving up, idly thinking of when they'll meet next.


End file.
